Hell Week, Interrupted
by Hutchie
Summary: It's no worse than Hell Week.  Steve can survive this...    Spoilers for end of season one and start of season two.  Takes place during first episode of second season.


_Spoilers for end of season one and start of season two._

_**Takes place during first episode of second season.**_

~ 1350 words

**Hell Week, Interrupted**

by Allie

This was no worse than Hell Week. Steve kept reminding himself of that.

And like Hell Week you got through it one day at a time. Sometimes one hour at a time. Sometimes one minute. But Steve would always get through it.

The worst part wasn't the unfamiliar surroundings, the constant danger from being law enforcement behind bars, or the knowledge that he'd been set up.

No. It was wondering what he could've done differently to avoid this. Had he walked into a trap? How had Wo Fat known he'd be there, known it would be the right time to kill the Governor?

Should Steve not have confronted her? Should he have listened to Danny and everyone else who said to stay back and play it safe? Yet he could no more have done that than stop breathing. He hadn't wanted her to be guilty, the woman he'd trusted. But he'd had to know.

And she had been. And Wo Fat had murdered her and framed Steve.

He was still alive, still here. Still fighting. Just getting through "Hell Week" one minute at a time, trying to keep his oppressive thoughts from ripping him apart.

Sometimes when the circling, demanding thoughts came back at him—what could he have done differently, how would he ever get out of this, how could he possibly live the rest of his life in jail if he couldn't?—he had to shut them up somehow.

So he worked out.

Push-ups were one way. He could do push-ups till his mind went blank, till all he could concentrate on was the next surge up from the ground, his burning muscles scorned. He was back up to his push-up record from the service, and going for more. Because he needed to be able to shut his mind off.

He needed to stop thinking, stop thinking about the bars and the close walls and how he was trapped in a cage with a thousand or so people who would like to see him dead—and more than that, how the whole state was against him. Even some of his friends.

Danno hadn't left, but it was surely only a matter of time before he moved to New Jersey with Rachel and Grace.

And Steve wished them well; he did.

Except for when he very much didn't, and wanted Danny to stay here in Hawaii instead. He knew that Danny thought he would stay in Hawaii until he got Steve free, proved his innocence.

But if that never happened, if Danny's optimism proved false—which sometimes, especially at night, seemed so very likely—then Steve had no doubt in his mind that Danny would eventually admit this, say his regretful goodbye, and return to his family.

And leave Steve. Because everyone did leave Steve in the end.

It wasn't their fault; he knew that now. Or his fault. His mother had died because of Wo Fat and the governor. It wasn't her fault or the fault of her young son. And his father sending him away had been for Steve's protection.

But try telling that to the thing inside him that for years had believed he'd just been tossed away, unwanted because he was too much bother after his mother's death.

It was a knee-jerk way to react to the world, and he wasn't going to do it anymore. He reminded himself of the truth about his father every day, now that he knew. His father had been protecting the family. He'd loved his son and daughter, even if he hadn't said it often and barely ever talked to them.

Steve had to remind himself because the knowledge still didn't feel real some days. Face it, Steve's dad had never been a father the way Danny was a father: someone who'd let nothing get in the way of being with his children. You had to admire that about Danny, even if you couldn't have admired him for a number of other things.

Which of course you could.

Danny was easy to be around, smart, intuitive, and a brilliant member of Five-O. And he'd get in your face if he thought you were wrong, tell you about it and not leave things unsaid, not just listen because someone else was in charge. He'd always try to do the right thing, whatever he saw that to be.

And he would never abandon his family. His ex-wife, Rachel: she was family again now, and of course, their daughter. Grace had probably been the only reason Danny got up some mornings, that sweet little kid. In the end, she always came first and Steve wouldn't have respected Danny as much if it had been any different.

But. Danny would still leave, and that knowledge made Steve squirrelly inside.

It was hard enough serving time now—even as short a time as Steve had been in here. (And it felt at least three times as long as it had been. Counting the days, he was amazed at how short his time in here had really been.)

It would be even harder once his one real contact with the outside world was gone: Danny, who would never look at him any differently because he was behind bars, or think he was guilty, or give up hope of proving Steve innocent.

Surviving was hard enough already, when he could see Danny every once in a while and almost feel like a human being again. But when Danny left and Steve was truly on his own with no one in or out of jail really on his side...

_Don't think about that. Get through today. Get through this moment. Don't think. Don't think. _

_He's not leaving yet. I haven't been sentenced yet. I didn't do it, and somehow, someway, there must be evidence of that._

But the world was bluish-gray and the bright orange of prison clothing; there was so little hope, only bars and cement and Steve, doing push-ups, trying to block it all out.

"McGarrett! Visitor!"

He hesitated for a second, the ugly and repetitive train of his thoughts broken by the guard's announcement. Then he leapt to his feet.

#

Steve walked, as he was careful to do here in jail, like a hunting animal: very dangerous and alert. He kept his eyes open and his gaze hard, careful of his surroundings.

He was very much aware that if there was some sort of conspiracy, the guard would be little if any protection. If a couple of inmates jumped him and he was killed, it would be little skin off anyone's teeth. He could only rely on himself.

They arrived at the white, bright room with its telephones and glass. It always seemed like a filthy room, polluted by desperate phone calls, profanity, filthy hands and no hope. Yet it was his favorite place in the whole jail. Because here he could see Danny.

He sat down, and looked at Danny through the glass, and felt the time and place slipping away. For one moment as sweet as Hawaii sunshine on his face, he was driving down the road with this man by his side, arguing, talking, or simply silent on a mission together, ready to right all the wrongs in the world.

He wasn't Steve McGarrett, criminal, he was Steve McGarrett, Five-O, and he could do anything in the world.

"Why are you smiling at me?" demanded Danno, as if he thought Steve wasn't taking this seriously enough.

It was Steve's first smile since he'd been locked up. Since Chin had led him away from the governor's office. Since a lot of things. It felt so good to smile, and he was not about to apologize about it.

"You're not wearing a tie. It suits you," he told Danno.

It was true, of course; Danny always dressed too formally.

But damn, that was the least of it. It was just so good to not be alone for one moment, to feel human again facing the one man he knew would always believe in him.


End file.
